Agents Of Change (2)
by Zodiac
Summary: While an enforced vacation in the Matrix can teach an AI a lot, it's never a good thing when the gun-toting relatives show up.


# Agents Of Change

Chapter 2: Little Girl Lost

The street was dark and slick from the recent rainstorm. Eve wandered along the avenue, listening to the cars hiss by on their hurried way to some desperately important place. She observed the reflections of the neon in the puddles in the gutters, the flutter of insects in the sodium streetlights, and the swollen clouds hanging low in the heavy sky. People moved silently behind closed windows. She could see their silhouettes. Ahead a shape huddled on a corner, a paper cup placed in front of it. As the program passed she dropped a few coins into it, thinking that here, in this place, every kindness helped.

Eve was desperately lonely. Previously she'd had the Neb as her family, to talk to and observe and to recreate with. Here there was no one for her. It was fascinating to watch people in their natural habitat---her code now branched and flowed in directions that would have even surprised Key. All of it was contained neatly, of course. No need to run into someone (or something) that recognized her for who she was. Whatever she was.

But there was only so much she could learn here. The Matrix was an amazing place to visit, but Eve was rapidly discovering that after a week she didn't want to live here. She kicked a pebble on the sidewalk, and it clattered to the gutter and disappeared beneath the surface of a pool. The pool made her think of home, of her construct with the wide skies, and she was sad. It was a relatively new feeling, but she was having more sentiments all the time. 

At least, she thought it was sadness. It could have been guilt. Emotions were difficult to tag a lot of the time.

She stopped on the sidewalk to look inside a store window. It was a small shop with breads and cheeses in the display case. Eve had no real affinity for food, since she could not taste or smell it. Watching people in a restaurant had given her some idea of its appeal, however. It was a social activity, obviously, and socializing _was_ what she was here for. Pushing the door open, Eve entered the bakery. Might as well take something home to try and eat neatly, in case it came up.

She was standing, her head cocked slightly at a tray of elephant ears (which looked nothing like ears or elephants), when a waft of cigarette smoke hit her. Not having a sense of smell, she didn't notice until the air in front of her became hazy. Then she reached out slightly and sensed someone standing behind her, their presence a series of undulating green characters.

"Don't look at me that way. I'm much nicer with a skin on." A rough voice spoke behind her. Eve blinked and turned, bringing the "real" world back into focus.

"That's better," The owner of the voice crinkled her eyes in a pleasant smile, "Now, I was wondering where you'd gotten to. You've got a lot of people worried."

"I was buying something," Eve paused, "Who's worried about me?"

"You know that." The woman waved her hand, the one that held the cigarette. On her other arm was a small red shopping basket full of bagged flour and assorted dairy products, and a receipt. "But you're doing very nicely though, for how you started out."

"I practically started out as a slide rule," Eve clapped her hand over her mouth. Now why'd she say that? She couldn't even hint at her origins; words were weapons here. But the woman didn't notice.

"Things change, as you can tell. Things you wouldn't think could change."

"Maybe." Eve listened, phrasing her words carefully, but interested now. "Do I know you?"

"Actually," She shifted the basket to the other arm, looking vaguely thoughtful "You're one of the few who don't."

"Oh," There was a silence, and Eve felt as if she should say something. "Hello, then. I'm Eve. Nice to meet you."

"Well, aren't you sweet. And such a pretty name." The older woman smiled.

"Okay," Eve smiled back, genuinely. She liked this woman. And she liked the rhinestone glasses as well.

"Now," The woman straightened her glasses, "For your fortune."

"What?" Eve raised an eyebrow.

"Don't just stand there, child. Show me your hand." Eve didn't even think about disobeying, raising her hand as if to shake it. The woman took it gently and turned it palm up.

"Hmm," She said, as if discovering some great truth.

"Is something wrong?"

"You've got dishpan hands."

"Uh. Thanks. Is that good?" Her newfound friend laughed lightly, but didn't answer.

"What else can you see?"  
  


"Not much. You'll marry a nice man, settle down in the country and raise a gaggle of kids. The usual."

"Somehow I doubt that," Eve observed dryly, "I'm not exactly usual." The woman nodded in agreement.

"That's true. You understand your place isn't the one you belong in, and that's good. If only others knew the same thing."

"How do I get back home?" She asked suddenly. The woman looked at her, considering.

"You'll fight your way back, of course. That's the only way anyone finds their way home." She missed the sad look the woman gave her.

"Remember, Eve. Your unique freedom is your greatest weapon. Use it." The woman dropped her hand, "I'd stay longer, but I should get home before I'm missed."

"Bye. It was nice meeting you," Eve thought about those last few words. She wasn't free. She was trapped. What had that meant? It annoyed her that ambiguity was still beyond her. Perhaps mystery novels would help.

"Nice meeting you as well. I was afraid I might not." The woman moved towards the door, gave a parting, reassuring glance, then disappeared out into the shadows of the street. Eve turned to the cashier.

"Did you hear all that?" The freckled youth behind the counter looked up.

"Hear what?"

"Any of that." He stared at her blankly, a little nervous. She realized he hadn't even seen anyone else.He looked ready to run screaming from her, if need be. Eve sighed and ran a hand through her hair--if she'd been anyone else, she'd definitely be insane. 

Unfortunately, that tempting option wasn't open to algorithmic lifeforms.

"Umm…So you gonna buy anything, lady?" Eve eventually bought two elephant ears, just to calm him down, and decided to call it a night.

***********************************************

"What'cha up to, Key?" Griff wandered into the control room, bowl in one hand and flask in another. Key's legs stuck up and out of a hole in the floor. He'd wormed his way into the crawlspace beneath the main computer, and bits and pieces of equipment were scattered about. There was a particularly large object near Key's legs. It looked like a dumbbell perched on its side, the stem covered with delicate circuitry and paneling.

"I'm upgrading our system. Morpheus gave me the go ahead this morning."

"Where'd you get all this crap?" Griff took a swig of whatever his flask contained.

"Hey," Key pushed himself up and out of the crawlspace, "This isn't crap. I traded two bottles of whiskey and a pear for this stuff."

"Whiskey," said Griff slowly, "You traded whiskey for _this_?"

Key shrugged. "Got the stuff for some work I did here in Zion a few months ago. I'm seventeen. I'm not allowed to become an alcoholic till I'm twenty."

"Yeah, but I'm _thirty eight_!" Griff put his hands to his face in pain. Key patted him in a patronizing manner.

"Don't worry, Griff. It probably wasn't that good anyways."

"What kind was it?"

"Jack Daniels." Griff started moaning again. Key sighed and picked up the large dumbbell carefully with both hands. The older man glared at it resentfully, as if it had stolen his girlfriend.

"What's so wonderful about it that you went and lost your mind?"

Key grunted as he set it into place below the deck of the ship. With a few quick clicks and snaps the core leapt to life, sparks running across its surface. Key picked up an errant piece of shielding and screwed it into place overtop of the delicate circuitry.

"It's a memory core out of a Tokyo hovercraft. One of the few left still working perfectly. They're practically indestructible and the best thing we've got in terms of data storage."

"Japanese always did make the best stuff."

"It's in case Evo grows up a little while she's out on her own. There's no way any amount of data could fill it up or slow it down. You could store a million different constructs in this thing and still have room for a program like her. Heck, you could have half a dozen a hundred times her optimum size. And it'll make our systems faster, too."

"Sounds great. Did you sell your soul on the black market?"

Key looked offended. "I _didn't_ get it on the black market. I told you, I bartered it from a friend. She runs salvage from the surface. And I dropped Morpheus's name a few times. Wasn't that hard."

"How does that thing store so much?"

"The Japanese were on the forefront of biotechnology in the earliest part of the twenty-first century. They absolutely kicked ass when it came to miniaturization."

"Cool. But does it run Doom or Quake?"

"Shut up, Griff." Key muttered good-naturedly.

"I heard that," Griff gave a gap-toothed smile, "But I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"If cute little Evo's so big, and it takes her so long to download and upload herself, then how is the Sargatanas going to pick her up during its hack run tomorrow? That ship has barely enough computer capability to remember its own name." Key was silent. Griff frowned and sobered up a little.

"Lemme guess. It can't." Key didn't answer, but stood slowly and deliberately walked calmly across the room to the door. He disappeared as he headed to Morpheus' quarters.

"Ah well," Griff wiped his nose on his sleeve. The memory core was still half-hooked to the computer system. He grunted and knelt by it, connecting the correct wires with ease. After snapping in the final cover, he clicked it into place beneath the floor and moved the heavy grate back to its original place. There, that should do it. The kid should only have to worry about one thing at a time.

*****************************************

"Hello?" Eve held the phone as if it would bite her. So far she'd gotten an irate landlord, a man who just breathed heavily (whatever that was about) and exactly nineteen phone solicitors. What purpose these had in the Matrix, she didn't know; whatever it was, it had better be a good one. This place was definitely wearing thin with her.

"Ey…ey! This Eve?"A gravelly voice greeted her.

"Yes. Who is this is?"

"This be Bill. From tha' hospiddle. Remember me?" She certainly did.

"Of course," She smiled, "How are you and your wife?"

"She'll be right as rain in a few days. They let me bring er' home yesterday."

"That's wonderful. Congratulations."

"Yeh. Ah remembered ah offered ta show you around the City, and I got's a night off tonight. Clara be sleepin' an don' need me ta watch er. I gotta run ma cab inta the shop for a few hours, so I'll be muckin' about downtown if ya want to go."

"I'd love too. It sounds wonderful."

"Okay. Ah'll drop by in a coupla minutes. You live inta' West Terrace?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

"Ah'm over in ta East Bank. Only a few blocks away."

"I'll wait out front."

"Meetcha soon."

"Bye."

Eve pulled out the thick coat she'd purchased with the money in her wallet. Leather just wasn't practical in the Matrix, as good as the Resistance made it look. Most of the time it was cold and wet and raining. The occasional sunny day was rare.

Five minutes later she was waiting outside her squat, non-descript building. A bright yellow cab pulled up soon after, headlights bright and making her squint.She recognized Bill hunched over the wheel, his driving coat pulled tightly around him.

"Good ta' see ya," He glanced over as she wiggled into the seat next to him. "How's tha City treatin' you?"

"Okay," She pulled a wrapped package out of her pocket, "Elephant ear? They're good."

"Don't mind if ah do. You're very polite, Eve. Remind me of man daughter, ya do. Don' go pickin' up strangers, usually." He hit the accelerator and swerved out into the street, cars honking angrily and drivers swearing. Bill didn't seem to notice.

"It's nice of you to show me around. I haven't met anyone who would." She looked out the window at the dark city.

"Well, ya only been here ah week. Nice people, they're hard ta find around here."

"I've noticed." She'd been mugged twice already.

"Ya had trouble, then?"

"No."Actually, she'd just left them both outside the police station, propped up against the doors.

"Thas' good. Most people have trouble of one kind or another. Ya'd think," He grumbled as they turned a corner, "that with all the suits runnin' around, the streets'd be safer."

"Suits?"

"Suits. Ya know, the pasty liddle guys with ta secret service."  
  


"Oh, the Agents." She noted her slip too late, and winced.

"Is that what'cha call em? Huh." He shook his head, "I've been livin' here for all ma seventy-five years, and I swear those people still give me the creeps."

"Mm. I haven't seen many."

"Well, they don't mess around with us law abdin' citizens. I heard in the garage that they only deal with the computer geeks and those business types. Ain't never seen one of em' lift a finger to stop a muggin."

"Not their area, maybe."

"Mebbe. It's strange times we live in, girlie."

"Is that your daughter?" Eve pointed to a tattered picture taped to the dashboard.

"Naw. That's ma granddaughter, Deanna. Ran away from her mother a few years back."

"Have you heard from her at all?"

"Nope. Police looked around for her, but it was mostly fer show. Jus' up an vanished on us. Ah wonder sometimes if she's still out there."

"Probably," Eve thought for a moment, then accessed her internal files._Deanna Cardinne—alias DuJour—serving active duty Shanghai_. "She's probably doing fine."

"Ah wish ah could be as confident," He said sadly, running a red light.

"Then be confident. Is this downtown?" Eve was delighted, "There are so many lights!"

"Well, no, this be the red light district. We ain't stopping here, that's fer sure."

"Why not?" He looked at her from behind his huge glasses, shocked.

"Dontcha know what a red light district is?"

"No. What?"

"I ain't tellin' ya. Didn't your mother have this talk wit you?"

"I didn't have a mother."

"Oh. Ah'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Ya have a father?" Eve thought of Key.

"Sort of. I had someone who tried their best to do right by me." Key had considered a person long before anyone else had. But the crew had all been good to her—they'd all raised her, in a fashion. Even Tank had talked to her about engines and booze and women. Eve felt that deep loneliness again, and felt the accompanying sadness as well.

"Ya all right?" Bill looked worried.

"I'm fine. Just feeling homesick, I guess."

"You'll get over it, ah imagine."

"I hope not." She looked around, peeling back away the surface of things. Almost immediately she withdrew herself. Bill, her friend, was plugged into his pod somewhere, sleeping, waiting to be recycled and fed to the next generation of prisoners. He was so old; it wouldn't be long until his energy output wasn't worth the energy input.She didn't want to think about it. Wanted to pretend it wasn't that way. But more and more she was starting to hate this place.

************************************

_I hate this place_ thought Smith, running swiftly through the alleyway. Up ahead the hacker ducked into a doorway. _Stupid move, young man. _He followed, shoes tapping on asphalt. His companions were heading towards the entrances of the building to cut the runner off. Smith ducked in after him, hitting the propped door with one shoulder. It burst open and he sprinted into the darkness of the building, seeing the shadow disappear up a sagging flight of stairs. Smith wished heartily that the man would stop running; he was so tired of this ridiculousness. _That's likely_. 

Up the stairs, around the corner, and through another door. The hallway was full of plaster. Why did runners always choose derelict buildings? There were plenty of abandoned places in the City, but humans always ran into the darkest, dirtiest ones. Like vermin. Smith looked down and saw shoeprints in the dust and spackle. Almost too easy.

Agent Marshall came to stand beside him. "You have his trail."

"Yes," replied Smith in a monotone, looking at the tracks, "He is making his way to the basement."

"Negative," Agent Marshall paused, putting his hand to his ear, "Goldberg has spotted him on the way to the roof." Without another word the shorter Agent was off, bounding down the hallway. Smith began to follow without thought. But then he began to doubt.

_Why would he go towards the roof?_ he mused _He is incapable of jumping if he succeeds in getting there. And there are no buildings within useful distance It is not a choice I would make_. Smith was still following Marshall, flying up the side stairs. Abruptly Smith turned on the top level landing, through a door,and headed down a smaller hallway. His earpiece screamed at him to watch Marshall's back; he almost pulled it out in disgust. Marshall didn't need his back watched. No good Agent did.

Here there was a gap in the floor, a rent in the superstructure of the building. It yawned, the steel beams crisscrossing and cutting into each other. Twenty feet down there was a small spot of plaster dust. _Clever._

Smith lowered himself, half climbing, half falling through the building. His earpiece chattered and called upon Marshall and Goldberg to follow him. Good. He could prove he knew how to catch a pathetic creature far better than they were able to.

His shoes hit bottom in a matter of seconds, the fall of several stories not even registering. Smith stood in the sub-basement, the pipes clanking all around him. Listening, Smith moved towards a low whine near one wall. There a pipe led into the sewer system, a slight breeze blowing out of it. He made to enter it when he sensed something move nearby. Smith whirled with deadly precision, gun drawn.

The young boy was huddled near the clanking boiler, his eyes wide and terrified. His leg was twisted and broken, showing splinters of bone clearly through a tear in his ragged jeans. He'd fallen down through his escape route, and snapped when he'd hit the ground.

"Are you going to kill me?"

_Yes, I am._ "Give me the stolen data."

"I need it," His eyes were frantic. Smith raised his gun and aimed at the center between the child's eyes.

"Give it to me or I will kill you." The boy should understand that. All logic dictated it was so. But the boy continued to shake his head.

"I need it to get out of here. I hate this place…and I need this to get out." Smith stilled for only an instant. Then his finger tightened on the trigger.

"I can't," The boy screamed, "I don't want to die but I can't stay here any…" his voice shut off and was lost in the sound of a single shot. The boy's head lolled back on his neck as a bright scarlet splash obscured his face.

Agent Marshall lowered his gun and snapped it neatly into his side holster. He then walked over to the child's body and retrieved the data from the front pocket of the stained shirt. He handed it to Agent Goldberg, who slipped it into his breast pocket.

"Good work," Agent Marshall nodded coldly to Smith, "We retrieved the data. Your supposition was correct."

"Of course," Smith responded, putting away his gun as well, "I have had much experience with these matters."

"With all your experience," Agent Goldberg answered, "Have you found it a wise policy to negotiate with terrorists?" Smith was silent for a moment.

"In cases where the terrorist was little more than a child, and an injured one at that, I have found it useful to use deadly violence as a last measure."

"There is no room for sentimentality in dealing with the Resistance." Agent Goldberg replied coldly.

"Is there a point to that statement?" Smith answered in voice laced with acid.

"Enough," Agent Marshall turned, "we must return immediately. There is a potential contact in the downtown area."

"I will order a clean up and removal," Smith said curtly, taking a sideways glance at Goldberg, but saying nothing.

"Very well," The three Agents stiffened, and in the wake of an electronic scream left three police officers standing in their place. The three men looked around in confusion, but the basement was empty. There was no sign of the fourth occupant.

********************************************

"Amazing," Eve walked down the street with Bill, the simulated air sharp and cold.

"Wha? Ain't you ever been in a city, girl?"

"I told you I was new to this."

"Well, I didn't think enyone never visited a city. This home you talk about, you musta left for a reason."

"A friend of mine needed my help."

"Oh. They in the city?"

"Not anymore. He needed to leave, so I came to get him. We figured I'd probably do better here then he could."

"Ah see. This home ya got. Pretty?"

"Beautiful. I miss it very much."

"Home always is."

"Some homes," She looked up and around at the towering skyscrapers and the ever-present clouds, "Others, I'm not so sure about."

"Ah know whatcha mean. Ah always wanted to move to the country," Bill turned and pointed, "That's tha park over there…just so ya know…but Clara never really wanted to."

"Clara's your wife?"

"Yup. Fifty five years in two months. Says she likes tha city, so we stay."

"You must love each other."

"We do. I wish you such luck. Ya got a sweetheart waitin' at home?"

"No. I live alone."

"Ah pretty girl like you? Ah don' believe it."

Eve smiled and closed her eyes. "I always tell the truth," There was a breath of fresh air, tainted with the cool feel of rain. She was happier than she'd been in weeks—Bill had managed to pierce the blanket of depression that had begun to weigh on her. Just by talking to her. It was funny how people didn't seem important until they weren't around. Then you wanted nothing but someone to be with. 

"Ya hungry?"

"No. But if you are, let's stop."

"There's a nice liddle place up here. Open late an has good noodles."

"Okay. My treat." They walked slowly towards the tiny restaurant. Bill scratched his stubbly chin.

"Here we be." Bill opened the door and held it open for her, "In ya go." Eve entered, then looked around.

"Bill…it _smells_ in here." He followed and took a deep sniff.

"Well, it rightly does. Smells like cookin'."

"No, I mean," She paused. _I'm a program and I shouldn't be able to_. That would have been a bright thing to say, now wouldn't it?She'd put it on her list of things to talk to Key about. Maybe she'd be able to taste too. The two were supposedly linked. "It's good. Making me hungry."

"Thas wonderful. I hate eatin' alone." They took a seat by the window, people outside passing hurriedly inches from the table. Eve put her elbows up on the table and leaned over, watching them.

"Yeh, I'll have a bowl a pod tie, and she'll have…uh..whatcha want, darlin?"

"Um," She turned to the waiter,"Do you have chicken?"

Eve found the chicken odd, but Bill enjoyed his noodles. He even put his teeth on the table next to his plate in approval. This elicited stares of disgust from a few of the people around them, but a few well placed glares on her part seemed to scare them off. One of them stared for the longest time, and wouldn't stop no matter how viciously Eve looked at her. The woman finally got up and came over.

"Scuse' me," she directed her question towards the program.

"Yes?" Eve countered, still a little irritated.

"I could swear I know you from somewhere." Eve relaxed slightly.

"I don't think so. I just moved here."

"Oh." The woman shifted slightly, "But you look so familiar." She glanced sideways at Bill, as if she wished he wasn't there.

"I'm sorry," Eve replied, "I don't know you."

"All right," The woman seemed crestfallen, "I'm sorry." Eve felt a little badly about being irritated.

"Ain't nuthin to be sorry about." Bill shoved out a chair with his foot, "Why dontcha take a seat?"

"No…" The woman seemed suddenly nervous, "I have to go."

"Well dontcha…" Bill stopped as the woman walked quickly to the door and exited in a rush.

"Did ah do something wrong?" 

"She seemed scared." Eve craned her neck and watched the woman run across the street. She ducked through the streetlights and ran out into traffic. Silhouetted by headlights, Eve watched the figure weave and dart between the cars, arriving on the opposite side of the street in a cacophony of honks and cursing.

"Really scared," Eve muttered, thinking. If she'd ever met the woman before, her image would be filed away. Unless she hadn't been unplugged. 

In answer to that thought, a black car skidded to a halt in front of where Bill and Eve sat.

"Well speak o' the devil." Bill huffed, "Didna' think they dealt with jaywalkers."

"Suits?"

"Yup," Bill began to count out change for the tip. He looked up in time to see his companion follow the woman out the door.

"Ehy!" He shouted, "Doncha' know better than ta get involved?" Bill looked down to see she'd left her wallet on the seat. He sighed and ran a hand across his bald pate.

"Ah well." He reached down and picked it up, taking a twenty from the billfold. No reason to waste an opportunity.

Eve skittered across the sidewalk, pushing people out of her way. She tumbled into the street, into the blinding glare of the headlights. Damn. She filtered her sight, the cascading green filling her vision. That was better. The program followed the woman, certain now she was a contact. A truck whipped by, inches from her body, side mirror nicking her elbow. Eve didn't notice.

The woman who'd tried to speak to her was a hundred yards away, down the opposite side of the street. Behind her three men had gotten out of the black vehicle.

"Bitch!" screamed a voice emanating from a car window. Eve realized belatedly that standing in the road wasn't the most unobtrusive of positions. She made her way through the lanes of traffic and onto the other side of the street.

_What are you doing?_ she thought to herself, _you're putting your neck on the line for no reason_. _You don't even know if she's been selected by a ship_. Then again, what the hell? It wasn't like the Agents could hurt her directly. At least in theory. But she had a cover to keep. She couldn't be extracted from this hellhole if she was a prisoner. Then she saw the three Agents begin pursuit, and there wasn't much choice.

_Damn you_, _Key_ she thought in the millionth of a second before she began to follow, _Couldn't you have taken it easy on the morality encoding_?

Her feet hit the pavement lightly, streetlights rippling past faster and faster. She was about twenty feet from the woman when she heard the methodical tap of good shoes.

_In pursuit of potential contact 18-21-14-2-9-20-3-18-21-14 heading north on Arbor Street heavy population take precautionary measure arrest restrain_…

Eve shook her head, running a quick diagnostic on her system as she bolted down the sidewalk. She was picking up some sort of general signal. Making note of the transmission level, she rearranged the tiny bits of flawed symbol responsible. Damn Agent code. One of these days she ought to find some way to get rid of it.

She caught up to the woman.

"Hi," Eve fell into step beside her. "You know you're being followed, right?" The contact was too out of breath to answer, but the whites of her eyes answered the question.

"I'd recommend getting out of general sight," Eve said conversationally, "They can't find you if no one can see you." A shake of the head, confusion.

"Take a left up here," She said, analyzing the map of the City she'd assembled. They both rounded the corner together. 

Before them lay a marina, row after row of boats stretching out into the night. It was dark and deserted, except for a few lit pleasure craft far out in the water. They stood at the very edge of the main pier, the water dark and lapping at the pilings. Eve sensed the Agents, and knew that they had seconds.

"It's a dead end!" Screamed the woman, "You tricked me!" Eve didn't reply, but reached over and pushed the woman over the edge.

"You try to help…" Muttered the program as the startled fugitive fell a dozen feet into the water below. There was a loud splash, a curse, and then silence. Behind her the three Agents skidded to a halt. Communicating silently, they split and went three different directions. None of them approached the silent pedestrian leaning against a tier. She watched them go, hoping fervently that the woman could swim. One of the Agents ran along a walkway that led straight out, checking the boats for signs of habitation. His pistol was drawn now that there were no witnesses. Eve watched him with interest, sitting down with her legs dangling over the water. She shook her foot in warning as she heard a low cough below her. The silence resumed.

Eve knew she was unique outside the Matrix; inside the Agents were the closest thing around. She found herself wondering how much they were like her, if at all. Did they get homesick? Was this place home? Did they hate telemarketers? Think that guy on channel five was really annoying?

No way to know. Eve doubted seriously that she'd ever talk to one in a situation where someone's life wasn't one the line. Like now. She watched the one closest to her walk slowly out to the end of the walkway, leaning down to check the darkness below. _Wrong place, buddy_ she thought _Can I have Agent intelligence and problem solving for eight hundred_?

"What are you doing?" An icy voice said behind her. Eve was startled only for a moment, reminding herself that she had to stop just looking at what her eyes showed her. She looked up mildly.

"Watching the boats."

"There are no boats." Eve glanced back. The few lit spots on the water had disappeared.

"Well, what _do_ you know," She smiled pleasantly, "I guess they must have sank. I ought to write a letter to the City Maritime Bureau."

"Did you witness anyone passing along here?"

"Nope. A couple of guys came by here with a keg a few hours ago. You looking to party?"

"You are lying." She sighed and leaned back, looking at the Agent upside down.

"And if I am?"

"We will take you in for questioning."

"It's not me you have to worry about. One of those guys had a sheep on a rope."

"On your feet." His voice was even colder than before. Eve obeyed and swung her feet onto the dock. She stood up and looked suspiciously at him.

"What am I being arrested for?"

"Withholding information."

"I am _not_," She whined in the voice of a teenager she'd seen the day before, "You just don't want to admit you lost whoever you're looking for."

"Be quiet," He turned her around and roughly slammed her against the post she'd been previously leaning on.

"Don't I get read my rights?"

"You have none."

"I will sue your Armani ass _so_ fast, mister." Eve struggled a little when he placed the handcuffs on her wrists.

"I ordered your silence."

"I don't respond well to authority figures. Bite me." She wondered where this was all coming from. Her vocal patterns had changed significantly since leaving Bill back at the restaurant. Her face was pressed up against the tier, and the splinters were digging into her skin. It didn't hurt, but it hurt her to have to subject herself to this. Then she remembered the woman under the pier, and stilled a little.

"There is no sign of the contact." Another voice, "Is this a witness?"

"It is possible. She is not forthcoming, but was here at the time of pursuit."

"Take her in for questioning. Allow the regular authorities to do the preliminary interrogation."

"I am _not_ withholding information," She said, her voice muffled against the tier, "You're just the victim of a cranial-rectal inversion."

She was spun roughly around, the grip on her arm like iron. Eve saw the flash of red and blue lights in the distance.

"We have more important issues to attend to than an unlikely witness." One of the Agents straightened his tie.

"Are you suggesting we not pursue the course of procedure?" The short one raised an eyebrow.

"I am merely making an observation."

"Well shut up," Eve retorted, "Obviously no one wants to hear it." The Agent who had spoken looked over at her, jaw tight. She recognized him abruptly, both from the basement and the training simulation. She hadn't put the two together before, but it seemed so obvious now she almost smacked herself. She'd have to run a self-diagnostic when she got home. These memory lapses were irritating. 

Before Eve could comment on him, a police car pulled up just outside the marina. A pair of officers climbed out and quickly walked over. "We got a call."

"I get to ride in a police car? Neat. Can I work the siren?"

"Take this witness to Precinct 42. Question her regarding anything she saw tonight."

"Lots of things," She addressed one of the officers, "There was this _incredible_ sale down on Market Street, you know, and…" The officer took her elbow as the Agent released her.

"Let's go, ma'am." He grunted quietly.

"Okay, Officer. Can I have shotgun?"

"Sorry ma'am. No suspects in the front." He glanced over his shoulder at the three men, "You're in a lot of trouble."

"What, them? They don't scare me."

"They should." He pushed her head down and she clumsily took a seat in the back.

"They irritate the hell out of me," She mumbled, "No initiative at all." A last parting shot? Why not? Eve stuck her head out the window.

"Hey!" She called loudly at the Agent, "Is this because I never called back?"

She was happy to see his head snap around so fast it nearly fell off. "Serves you right," She said to herself, then withdrew her head as the officer rolled up the window. The squad car pulled off into the night.

Agent Marshall regarded Smith with calculated interest. "You are acquainted with that individual?"

"I did not recall her designation at first," Smith replied smoothly, "She was injured during our last encounter with Anderson and Morpheus." 

"That puts her under suspicion," Agent Marshall nodded, accepting this answer, "We may have to question her personally."

**********************************************

"This is boring," complained Eve, "You keep asking me the same questions over and over. I'm not going to change my answer."

"We're just trying to get an idea of what you saw."

"I didn't see anything. I was watching the water and minding my own business when those government bodies rammed me into a post and didn't read me my rights." Over the course of the last few hours she'd started feeling grouchy and grown steadily more bitchy.

"They don't need a reason to arrest people. I'm just following orders, ma'am." She felt a little sorry for her questioner. He looked as tired of this as she was.

"I'm not going to tell you about something I didn't see. That would be lying, which, ironically, is why I'm here in the first place. You really need to put up a poster or a window or something in here. It's so bland."

"Ma'am?"

"I know a few decorators, " She paused, "Do you like floral patterns or plaid?" The questioner almost smiled, but suppressed it with a professional veneer.

"I'm going to take your testimony to the front office," He sighed, standing up and pushing back his chair with a screech. "I'll see if I can't get it processed and you out of here."

"While you're gone, can I have a piece of paper and a pencil? I might be here for a while." The man fumbled for a moment before handing her a notepad and his pen.

"Thanks." She began to doodle as the man left. She'd been in here two hours already, and was rapidly beginning to believe that this white walled room was the most unpleasant place in the Matrix. She made long, straight, orderly lines with the pen to pass the time.

Twenty minutes later the suits entered.

"Hello boys," She didn't look up, "I was wondering when you'd come wandering in."

"You testimony is incomplete." One of the Agents she didn't know sat down.

"I told him everything I know. It only took two hours though, which is kind of disturbing when you think about it."

"You fail to mention the offender we pursued into your vicinity."

"I didn't see anyone. I told the police questioner that."

"We know the suspect entered the marina. You were in the marina in a position to see them enter the area. It follows that you are a witness."

"Are you confused? Should I stop using polysyllabic words? Look," She held up her pad, "C-A-T. Do you know what that says?" The Agent's brow furrowed, and his hands came together as he leaned forward. It was a tactic used to make the observed uncomfortable. Eve didn't blink.

"Ms. Jameson, you are in a very suspect position. I recommend you cooperate with us to the best of your ability."

"Can you say 'cat'? Come on, I know you can."

Behind her, Shorty reached over to take the pad from her.

"Get your own, mister." She snapped, putting the yellow notepad into her pocket. He froze, then withdrew his hand in bewilderment. Smith glanced over, bemused. Amateur. Agent Marshall continued.

"You have also been placed at the scene of a terrorist attack."

"Those were terrorists? What were they doing in a chemical warehouse?"

"A better question would be what were you doing in a chemical warehouse?"

"I don't know. I got whacked over the head and when I woke up Smith here was asking me if I'd seen anything. Is that all you ask anyone? If they've seen anything?"

"What were you doing in the warehouse?"

"I don't know. Hey," She brightened, "That was monosyllabic. Can I go now?"

"No, you may not."

"Why are you bleeding?"

"What?" The question had come from Shorty, and Eve turned to look at him. She followed his eyes to the cuff of her coat. Dark red blood was dripping from the cuff.

"Well that's kind of gross," Eve had forgotten all about being sideswiped by that truck, since it hadn't hurt in the least. Her imaging must have responded, though. "Mind if I take off my coat?"

"Please," The Agent looked mildly interested. Eve shrugged it off. Her entire side was soaked in bright red, although the gash on her broken elbow had long stopped bleeding.

"Well damn," She considered the situation carefully, "I ought to have that looked at."

"Allow me," Shorty reached over and seized her arm roughly, yanking it backwards.

"Hey," She shouted, aiming a kick at him as he flipped her over onto the table, "I'm grievously injured here."

"You obtained serious injuries watching boats?"

"Maybe." Eve's mind raced. "Splinters are always a problem." How was she going to get out of here?

Shorty and Smith had her pinned down on the table by the shoulders.

"You know something," The Agent who'd questioned her stood, "You will tell us what you know." Eve looked up at his from the table. There was something at the edges of her mind, a bright spark of red that wasn't like anything she'd ever seen or felt in the Matrix. It was cutting through her consciousness like a knife, roaring in anger. It was also very close.Abruptly she smiled, a wide, sharklike grin.

"I know you're in trouble. Care to let me go before I open up a big old can of…" She was cut off by a muffled explosion from a distant part of the building. "Too late," Eve barely concealed her relief. Things had been about to get ugly. Of course, things were getting ugly right now, but she preferred to have the ugly working with her.

The three Agents shared a single glance as all the alarms in the building went off. An instant later the Agent's earpieces began to chatter to each other. Goldberg and Smith released her, both listening intently.

"We're being attacked directly," Agent Marshall said in disbelief.

"You must be important." Smith put his hand near his holster. 

"I didn't think I was this important. I'm going to start believing in karma." Eve glared evenly at Smith with poison green eyes, daring him to do it. His hand twitched slightly.

"Leave her. We will return once the threat has been neutralized."As a unit all three men headed towards the door.

"Drop me a postcard from oblivion," The sentient program called as they left.Smith, last out the door. cast a single arctic glance behind him. She gave a cheerful wave.

"Good luck," She said, "Try not to get the crap kicked out of you again." He only paused for an instant, jaw clenching, before he shut the door behind him so hard the glass window shuddered. _That one's dangerous,_ she thought to herself, getting up and trying the door. It was locked of course, but the window wasn't.

Eve wrapped her sleeve around her fist and punched a hole easily through the wire-enforced glass. As she did so she removed the blood from her visible imaging. She shoved her arm all the way through the gap and touched the knob on the other side. An instant later the door clicked open and she stumbled out onto the hallway, checking her right and left. It was deserted.

The spark was getting brighter. Eve headed toward it, taking a left, then a right down the identical hallways.

Suddenly she found herself standing in a sea of cubicles—the offices of the police.A voice hissed at her.

"Are you crazy? Get down!" A middle-aged worker was lying flat on the floor, her hands over her head.

"Can't. Got to get out of here," She replied, "Did three big ugly guys come this way?"

"Went down that way." She pointed.

"Thanks," Eve called as she sprinted in the opposite direction.

"But they split up," Yelled the worker. Eve didn't hear her. She ran swiftly along the wall, towards the faint sounds of mass destruction. Hitting a pair of double doors squarely with one shoulder, she vaulted into a wide hallway tiled in an institutional green. The simulated air was hazy with smoke, and nearby Eve heard shots fired. A quick look past the smoke and she saw

"My personal hero," Eve ducked easily as a few bullets sang through the air and buzzed her ear.

"There you are," The One shouted in a loud but conversational voice, "We were worried!"

"Little old me? You shouldn't have. Why are you here so early?" She yelled above the sirens.

"Morpheus and Key started raising hell back in Zion. You saved the right person's life." Neo gestured and a stray bullet fell to the ground at Eve's feet.

"Thanks. Shall we?"

"Not yet. I'm looking for someone. You get out of here," He tossed her a cell phone.

"Does he have creepy blue eyes and way too much hair gel?"

Neo glanced over as he punched a security guard in the face, sending splinters of bone into his brain. "You know him?"

"Met him a couple of times.You sure you want to take the trouble to settle old scores?"

"I want to find out why he's not dead."

"Earth to Neo!" Eve made an exasperated face, kicking a swat officer in the stomach and throwing him against a wall. "Ever heard of a mainframe?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Neo, I've spent almost three weeks here. I know more about the structure of the Matrix than anyone alive. At least, anyone alive in the real. And I'm telling you," She stepped over a pile of guards, "It's not an issue."

Neo still had a gun in one hand. "Then explain it to me."

"Maybe it's escaped your notice, Numero Uno, but in about two minutes we're going to be neck deep in the local authorities. I suggest we discuss it later." By her feet one of the guards moaned. Eve glanced around at the splashes of blood and huge craters left by Neo's bullets, "Before we end up on a daytime talk show."

Neo took a moment, then nodded in agreement. They began to make their way to a pay phone at the other end of the lobby. Miraculously it had remained untouched. Eve was following behind Neo when she felt a bitterly cold hand latch onto her ankle. She stumbled, looking down to see a guard twisting and crackling with energy.She shouted a warning to Neo.

"Agent!" She yelped, and Neo whirled around to face Smith, gun already drawn. He knew it was useless, but it gave him focus in the face of this nightmarish enemy.

"Mr. Anderson," Said the familiar voice, "So nice to see you again."

"Hello, Smith." Neo remained where he was, unsure.Smith had the barrel of a pistol pressed to his friend's temple, his arm wrapped completely around her, using her as a shield. Neo desperately wanted to attack, but he couldn't; Eve was a program too—he could very well destroy her in the attempt.

The pay phone was still ringing.

"We seem to have reached an impasse, Mr. Anderson. You are out of options." Smith waited. Marshall and Goldberg were only minutes away, Smith having occupied the last living body near Neo's point of access.

"Let her go," Neo growled, not moving, "Let her go or I'll kill you again."

"Really, Mr. Anderson, did you think we'd fall for the same trick? That flaw in my person has been remedied, and in my colleagues as well." Neo's eyebrows came together. Did that mean Smith was invulnerable? He had to be bluffing. 

Eve was struggling in the Agent's viselike grip—it was a good thing she didn't need air, or she'd be blue right now. What she really need was a weapon. Anything she could use against him, to escape with Neo. Then it came to her. What she needed was a distraction.

Silently she mouthed the words at Neo.

"Shoot me." Neo shook his head infinitesimally. Had she gone nuts living here? Eve made an urgent face at him, and clawed at Smith's hands. "_Shoot me."_Neo, paler than she'd ever seen him, steadied his gun. She saw the question on his face. "_In the chest."_ She turned sideways and twisted her neck to look at Smith.

"Surprise, Smith." He shook her roughly, not taking his concealed eyes off Anderson.

"You…" He began, but never finished. Neo fired, not once but three times, and Eve let them hit her even as Smith avoided them, loosening his grip on her with the motion.

It was a numb painful sensation, sharp pinpoints as the bullets tore into her physical form, through the thin imaging Key had put into place so carefully. Then they were through her frame and out her back, Eve doubling over in shock and staggering forward. She tore herself free from Smith, who had released her in horror. He stood, frozen in place, unable to move. 

Neo caught her arm, the look on his face rivaling Smith's. "Oh my god. What have…"  
  


"I'm fine," she managed, then in a slower voice "Rerouting essential subroutines." She let herself fall a little against Neo, who dragged her away from Smith and towards the phone.

Neo's bullets had destroyed Key's Zionist code, leaving a great gap in Eve's imaging and internal systems. It hung eerily open to Neo's eyes, a flaw running from her collar to her belly. Through it Neo could see streaming symbols without having to look past the Matrix. It was there, her internal organs, for all to see. Including Smith.

"You're…" He took a step forward. Then Neo grabbed the phone off the hook, jamming it against her head, and Eve shattered and fragmented, disappearing from the Matrix. She was safe. Neo looked up at Smith as he hung up the phone. It began to ring again. Neo saw something in the Agent he couldn't identify, in the way he stood frozen in mid-stride.

"She's ours." Answered Neo, before picking up the receiver. Smith's face hardened, and he took a quick step forward, but then Neo disappeared after her, leaving nothing but the phone that fell away and down into space.

***************************************************

"What the hell happened?" Key was inside the construct kneeling beside his creation. She was propped up in a chair, her head lolling against one shoulder. Her eyes were blank and glazed, only occasionally fluttering up to look at Key clearly. He thought he saw her smile faintly once, but it didn't happen again.

"I shot her." Neo stood outside with Tank, watching worriedly. He'd gone in to rescue her; now it looked like he might have killed her.

"With your gun?" 

Neo frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

"Our guns are based on Zionist code. So they had an effect. If that Agent had shot her it would have made her bleed but wouldn'tve have hurt her." Neo groaned.

"So she wasn't in danger."

Morpheus placed his hand on Neo's shoulder. "No, Neo, but you were. Smith is our most dangerous opponent. He's the oldest Agent known to the Resistance. In my personal experience he's also the most evolved."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Watch that line between foolishness and bravery, Neo." Tank and Griff stood hunched over a console filled with green code. It had a slight blue tint that set it apart.

"I still don't understand why it had such a weird effect," Griff grunted, "The bullets aren't real and neither is she."

"Bullets in the Matrix are viral. They enter a body and disrupt the physical representations, which in turn disrupts the signal between the brain and where it interfaces with the Matrix. Same with most weapons. The rest of things that cause death are usually dealt with in other manners." Morpheus didn't take his eyes from where Key was working.

"So she got eaten, not shot." Griff looked up. "The code's not damaged, it's gone."

"Almost," Key's voice broke into the conversation, "I can kind of hazard a guess as to what's missing, along with some growth that's occurred already. But I can't guarantee she'll be the same as she when you rescued her, Neo."

"Do what you can, Key. Tank and Griff will assist you. Neo, come with me." Morpheus gestured at Neo, who still looked pale an shaken, "Trinity, you as well."

"I killed him once and I'll do it again." Neo's face was mask like, "I've killed half a dozen of the bastards and I'll kill half a dozen more."

"They keep coming," Trinity pulled her sweater around herself tightly, "We need to find another solution." Morpheus and Trinity disappeared into the ship, Neo trailing behind them. He looked at Tank before he left.

"Let me know what happens," Tank nodded.

"Tank, get me out of here." Key stood, a determined look on his face.

"You got it," Tank tapped a few buttons. Beside him Key's eyes fluttered open. He winced as Griff removed the jack from his skull.

"I think I've got an idea. Griff, help me out here." He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of his chair.

"I recognize that look. You got a light bulb going off?"

"A dim one. My best guess is that the bullets only damaged her connective code. We tack them together and just hope she snaps out of it."

"Kind of a long shot, isn't it?"

"If it doesn't work, we'll try duct tape."

************************************************

"What is it, Morpheus?" The three of them were sitting in the mess hall. Trinity seemed curious as well, her face drawn. She knew Morpheus well enough to know that the news wasn't good—his face was dark and brooding.

"I received an important communication from Zion several days ago. All ship captains received the same, with slight variations. I've been debating on letting you know, Neo."

"Know what?"

"They've decided to started filtering the Matrix." Trinity was silent, but her azure eyes widened in shock.

"Filtering? What does that mean?" Neo looked back and forth between the captain and his second.

"We've waited so long, Neo. There are some that aren't willing to wait any longer, now that you're here."

"But Neo isn't experienced enough yet. He needs time to learn. _We_ need time."

"Zion won't accept that, although I've tried to tell them several times. All I get back are orders to compile a list of hackers and known contacts that are worth releasing." Trinity's mouth opened slightly.

"They're activating the Fleet?"

Neo began to get angry. "Will someone talk to me? What am I supposed to be doing? What's this fleet?"

"The Fleet," Trinity turned to him, "Morpheus said Zion's been waiting for you. They're not the only people. Humanity has been waiting ever since the first One died. Salvagers take every shell, every engine, every dead AI they come across. And they build. They've been building for seventy years. The fleet is an assembly of every ship Zion has salvaged. We have far more ships than people—but we hide them from the machines, deep in the earth, deeper than Zion itself. It's the greatest secret we have."

"That we're not as weak as we seem," Morpheus seemed tired, "And now Zion needs an army to man it. Up until now we've only selected the very best, the hackers who have contacted us directly. But we cannot afford to hide in the shadows any longer. We need free men."

"But they'll need to be trained. Trinity's right, we need more time."

"I agree. Nevertheless we must take the first step." Morpheus folded his fingers together, "Neo, your responsibility is a great one, I know. But you would not be the One if you didn't have the strength to carry it." 

Neo was silent, thoughtful, before he began to speak. "We need to find out how many, who, where, and how heavily they're monitored. We also need some sort of ship…" 

Trinity smiled, partially at him but also to herself."The tubeships are being assigned to every warship with hacking and releasing capability."

Neo cocked his head. "Tubeships?"

"First stage ships of the Fleet. They were built to house large numbers of newly released. They're strong, fast, and the best thing we have in terms of transports. Not particularly vulnerable to attack, but because they're full of medical equipment they have little to no computer capability."

"Why are they called tubeships?"

"Shaped like elongated, segmented bullets. High maneuverability in enclosed spaces." A voice echoed down through the hallway. It was Griff calling Morpheus.

"Excuse me," The captain said, "I'm being called upon. Any questions, Neo, come to me immediately." The captain rose and nodded at both of them, before heading out and towards Griff's voice.

"Well, Neo, how does it feel?" Trinity leaned up against him, lending slight warmth.

"Feels like the weight of the world. Probably because it is," Neo put an arm around her, her shoulders reassuringly solid. In the Matrix people thought he was a god. Sometimes Trinity was the only one who seemed to see that this was in danger of crushing him in the Real. Morpheus understood as best he could, but his unwavering faith felt like pressure to Neo, who would have died rather than disappoint his mentor and friend.

"I know you can do it, Neo." Trinity tilted her head up, gauging his mood, "The important things is that _you_ know you can do it."

"Am I the Little Engine That Could, now?"

"Thinking you can isn't enough. It's the knowing you can. A year ago you would have said you couldn't destroy Agents or stop bullets. You _knew_ you couldn't, that you never would. It was your reality. How is that different from now?" 

Neo was silent. What Trinity was saying was true, even if he couldn't quite accept it.

"I need time," Trinity kissed him, lightly and warmly.

"Then you'll get it."

"That's right," Neo suddenly grinned, "I _am_ the One, you know." A light came on in Trinity's eyes. They may not listen to Morpheus, but she'd be damned if they didn't listen to Neo.

**********************************************

"I did it," Key was doing his victory dance, much to the consternation of Tank and Griff. "I am so awesome."

"Stop dancing before my eyes fall out," ordered Griff, entering the room and not even close to smiling, "I've seen better two-cent strippers."

"He takes his clothes off and I'll gouge out mine voluntarily." Tank spun around in his chair as Morpheus entered, "Hi captain," He said, voice loud. Key stopped dancing and Griff sighed in relief.

"Thank god you're here. I was just about to electrocute myself."

"What is Evo's status?"

"She's up and about. It takes a little while for her to respond, but she got better in the five minutes I talked to her."

"Your theory was correct?"

"Yeah. Neo didn't hit any of her memory or response routines, just the bits that link the two. Whatever effect those bullets had on her, it seems to be mostly temporary."

"I suggest you notify Neo. He's quite concerned."

"Didn't she _ask_ him to shoot her? Why is he upset?" Tank shook his head.

"Neo has always been focused on doing a job right. It wouldn't sit with him if the creature he went in to rescue was irreversibly hurt."

"She's fine," Key reassured, "As fine as a sentient program gets, anyway. She picked up a lot in the Matrix—seems to have developed a sense of humor and an interesting vocabulary."

"Humor?"

"Go in to see for yourself. She's asking for you."

"Of course." Morpheus nodded.

A minute later he stood in the wide yard, the air cool and breezy. He looked up and around at the waving branches of the trees. His crew had done an excellent job—the air, or what he perceived as air, was heavy with rain. The sky was a dark purplish blue, ominous clouds building in the distance.

"Morpheus!" A head stuck itself through the window of the kitchen. "Come in before you get wet," the familiar face called. The captain walked up to the screened in porch and opened the door. It screeched, coated with rust. 

"That was Key's idea," Eve said, meeting him at the door. "Convincing, isn't it?"

"Very. I regret not visiting earlier."

"It's okay. I know you have to be objective." She smiled, welcoming him into the common room. "I hope that will fade with time." Morpheus sighed, removing the coat he'd appeared in.

"I'm allowed the occasional mistake in my judgments of character."  
  


"Especially when they're not mistakes," Eve gestured him to come inside, "It's war, captain. That's immutable."

"I still owe you my life."

"I owe you mine. We can call it even." Morpheus stood in a cozy room with tall windows. It was warm and well lit, decorated with woods and deep carpets.

"Come on. I wanted to talk to you about Neo." She took a left, into a small kitchen.

"Do you eat now?" Morpheus looked around, placing his coat on the back of a chair.

"I could, but since I can't taste it's on the pointless side. More to make other people comfortable than anything else."

"Key mentioned a library some months ago. Did that ever come into being?"

"Second door on the left as you take a right past the door. It's quite clever actually. All of the literary data of the Neb and some from Zion, in book form. Union was quite pleased to find the Danielle Steeles that survived the war, all on one shelf."

"I wouldn'tve though Union to be a fan."

"She loves them. Laughs the whole way through."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Some of the poetry is interesting, as well as evolution and biology texts. Miss Steele does not interest me. Human history is fascinating—it's a pity there are so many gaps."

"I hope someday that will change."

"Which brings me to why I called on you. I think I can help Neo."

"How so?"

"I spent a fair amount of time in the Matrix being bored, Morpheus. So I wandered around. Met a few people," She thought of Bill, and wondered if he was all right, "And studied the mainframe."

"Pardon?"

"My primary function is to observe and learn. I saw more in three weeks than exists in the Nebuchadnezzar. If I could teach what I know to Neo, he could know more than any man alive."

"What's stopping you from doing it?"

"I'm a program, Morpheus. A complex one, maybe, but still a program. I'm part of the system. Neo…" She shook her head, "He's above the system. Over it. Beyond it. He can make a difference. And I can show him how." There was the sudden sound of rain outside, soft and heavy. A breeze blew in through the window she'd opened.

"Then I give you permission, Evo. By all means, if you can show Neo anything that will help in, do so."

"Eve."  
  
"What?"

"Eve," She frowned, "You mean you didn't send the package?"

"No. I informed the _Cleopatra_ of your situation as we were leaving hacking range. Their equipment was burnt out by the EMP, but they still were able to upload a few objects that you needed. They said to say thank you."

"For what?"

"Watching over their captain."

Eve smiled wryly. "I saw her from a great distance."

"But you let the crew know they didn't kill her. It meant a great deal to them."

"Then they're welcome."

Morpheus leaned back in his chair, running his large hands across the yellow Formica of the table. "Your name's Eve? I like it. It suits you."  
  


"I'm glad. I've gotten used to it being shouted by the local authorities." Morpheus paused for a moment, then his face split into a wide white grin. She took a seat, offering him a cup of some dark liquid. He reached over and took it, a familiar smell reaching his nose.

"Coffee?"

"Yep. I knew Union and Neo were fond of it, a lifetime ago. So I took note of the structure during my involuntary vacation."

"Considerate of you," He took a sip, "How was your stay, Eve? Other than boring, I mean."

She looked reflective. "It was…an enlightening experience. I was curious before, as to whether or not I would be happier there, among the machines." She knew what she was admitting amounted to treason, but Eve knew that Morpheus would see through deception. And there was no reason here to deceive.

She was little surprised, however, when he nodded thoughtfully. "That had occurred to me as well. It is a fundamental law of nature that like organisms attract like organisms. It even occurred to me when Key first proposed your project."

"I'll admit to having considered contacting the mainframe. Then I thought about what Trinity told me."

"What?"

"About what happened when you were captured. And I quickly decided that abject misery wasn't how I wanted to spend the rest of my youth. However long that may be."

"You're very mature for a six-month old."

"Has it been that long?"

"Almost. What exactly did Trinity tell you?"

"About the Agent. I didn't make the connection between that and the training simulation." She idly picked up a spoon and began twirling it between her fingers, "Even in the basement. He was the one who was chasing you, you know."

"I suspected as much. His taste for vengeance is strong."

"I know, and that's what interests me. Of the three I encountered, he seemed the most personable. Of course, it was a miserable bastard sort of personable, but I can't imagine the Matrix making you sweet tempered. He actually became angry in the basement. That isn't supposed to happen."

"He was angry at my escape?"

"Punched out part of a retaining wall. And when I was caught at the docks, he questioned orders."

"How so?"

"Just suggested that time would be better spent pursuing the contact than interrogating me. Or something to that effect. He really got slammed by Shorty."

"Shorty?"

"Goldberg," She frowned, "Although he never told me his name. How odd."

"You are part Agent."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I? Agent Brown, as far as I can tell."

"Yes, Neo mentioned that a while back."

"It has it's side effects," She shook her head when Morpheus raised his eyebrows, "No urges to run around in sunglasses and talk like Joe Friday."

"Then what?"

"I can pick up the general signal they send. Figuring out a way so that Neo or you could hear it shouldn't be hard, either directly or through me."

"Can you transmit?"

Eve looked thoughtful, "I haven't tried. At the time I was trying to save a contact. What happened to her?"

"The _Mesopotamia_ picked her up about two and a half hours after the Agents captured you. Hacksaw. Developed security systems for the government before going underground."

"A government worker? How old was she?"

"Nineteen. She's doing well, last I heard."

"I'll look her up sometime."

"About Smith. Did you say he questioned orders?"

"Yes."

"Smith is the senior Agent in his sector of the Matrix. He wouldn't be receiving orders. He'd be giving them."

"Agent…Marshall was in charge. He oversaw my questioning, or my attempted questioning. You wouldn't believe how thick he was. And Goldberg seemed second in command; a little guy, came across as a real greaseball. But that's just my instincts kicking in. I could be wrong."

"You don't have instincts. So I'll regard them as facts." Morpheus reached over and picked up a small sugar bowl shaped like a smiling pig, "Should I ask?"

"It's the kitchen Griff grew up in. I never asked, either." She handed him her spoon.

Morpheus scooped a few spoonfuls into his cup, and swirled them around thoughtfully. "That change must not sit well with him."

"Probably not. Agents thrive on control and power. Smith has neither of those, or at least significantly less than he used to. It's most likely making him miserable."

"I pity him."

"I think it's strange they've let him outgrow his parameters. If that happened to me, if I went nuts, Key would be cutting chunks out of my code left and right."

"You were allowed to grow into a…into a person," Morpheus allowed, "But Agents are like Sentinels. They have one purpose."

"Search and destroy."

"Exactly. Your freedom of choice, of evolution, has allowed you to do in six months what it's taken Smith decades to do."

Eve tilted her hands up, examining them. "How old is he, anyways?"

"I don't know. He's been around as long as I've been running missions." Morpheus finished the cup of coffee, looking regretfully at the bottom.

"He probably knows a lot about the Matrix," Eve had the faintest gleam of an idea, but then she threw it far away. It was impossible. "Need a refill?"

"Please."

If Morpheus had mentioned that he was thinking the same thing, carefully and with great deliberation, it might have only been days before the impossible happened. As things _did_ happen, it took three weeks. 

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_Be a good reader and review. Constructive negative criticism is welcome—I update on a regular basis. The number of reviews affect how soon I will put the next two parts up. (Waves cookie at audience) They're already done._


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